


like wildfire, it starts in my chest

by Nottodaylogic (MandaloreArtist)



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, a triangle of fun fun things for fitzy to experience, essentially the more chaos magic fitzy uses, it starts to affect his surroundings, meaning his room is Messy As Shit, might be a five plus one might not let’s see whether travis nerfs me on this or not!, no matter how hard he tries to clean it, takes place in various times throughout the timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26199853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandaloreArtist/pseuds/Nottodaylogic
Summary: or alternatively: sir fitzroy maplecourt, knight in absentia to the realm of goodcastle, and the unkempt, disastrous, unclean, totally awful, aesthetic-murdering, tear-making, messy-ass, hurricane-victim-looking room.but that was way too long to fit.
Relationships: Master Firbolg & Argo Keene & Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Master Firbolg & Rainer (The Adventure Zone), Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt & Rainer, Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt & Snippers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	1. in the sidekick dorm

**Author's Note:**

> title from anger by sleeping at last, who i haven’t listened to but _fucking need to, goodness_

It’s been almost a full fortnight since Fitzroy (it’s _Sir_ Fitzroy, knight in absentia to the realm of frickin’ Goodcastle, can _no one_ remember that?!) moved in, and already he misses the solitude of his room at Clide Nite’s Night Knight School. Regretfully, he knows what it’s like to live with other people, but he’d never expected to have to share company in such cramped quarters again—not so soon after leaving home. It’s really bad.

Actually, it’s almost _worse_ than back at home; his roommates have _zero_ respect for aesthetics, the Firbolg had never had to learn about the concept of _personal property_ , and Argo had evidently never shared a room before. 

Fitzroy last straw snaps on a Thursday, just after another horrible meeting with Festo. They made him summon Snippers, so the crab is there, snip-snip-snipping along at his heels as he stomps into the room. 

“Argo!” He yells in the direction of the bathroom. 

_“Mm-hmm?”_ comes the reply, undoubtedly muffled by toothbrush. _Unbelievable._ Does his roommate have no class? 

“If you wouldn’t mind terribly,” he says tightly, setting his crab firmly in his shoebox, “would you come out here? I need you to witness a very bad crime you did.”

There’s a spitting noise, the sound of water running, and Argo walks out of the bathroom, mustache looking luscious as ever. “Ah, yes? What is it?”

With all the annoyance he can possibly muster, Fitzroy points at the offending object. “Do tell me, _what_ is this?”

Argo frowns. His hair drip-drips water on the floor, which it doesn’t normally do. _Did he just shower?_ Fitzroy hadn’t heard if he had, but then again, it’s possible he could be the world’s stealthiest showerer. The world may never know. “...er, it’s a textbook?”

“Correct. And _why_ , pray tell, is it on the _floor?”_

“Well, I was reading it. It’s what books are for, y’know.”

Fitzroy snorts sardonically. “Well, _obviously._ I’m not a _complete_ doodoo head.”

There’s a snorting noise from underneath the desk. Fitzroy nearly jumps out of his skin before he realizes it’s just the Firbolg, lying face-down on the floor. Of course. “Ha! Doodoo head. This is… good insult.”

Fitzroy shoots him a look. “Thank you, uh… Horace?” 

‘Horace’ shakes his head. “Mmm… no. This is… nothing.”

He shrugs. “Whatever. But, ah, Argo, buddy… you didn’t answer my question.” 

“You should feel very ashamed,” the Firbolg continues emphatically. Argo ignores him, as is wise.

Finally, after a few moments of thinking, he shrugs. “Well, ah, I suppose it’s there ‘cause I was just readin’ it right there, right?” He makes a gesture, the meaning of which is lost somewhere in the briny depths of Argo’s mind. “Y’know, just… sittin’ on the rug, really feelin’ myself, and never really... picked it up?” He spreads his hands in finality. “And there y’have it!”

Fitzroy stares at him for a few moments, then starts shaking his head emphatically. “Okay, nuh uh. You don’t get to walk out of this just by sitting there and doing nothing while the Firbolg and I clean up aaaall your messes.”

The Firbolg scoffs loudly, sitting up in indignation. “I will be doing _none of the cleaning!”_

“No, that’s my—”

“You will _not_ be taking advantage of my natural aptitude towards the grabbing and passing out!” His declaration complete, he lays back down. Mission fucking accomplished.

Fitzroy sighs for a long moment before remembering he hasn’t finished being annoyed at Argo yet. “Argo. Now. Pick it up.”

“Fitzy—”

He jabs his finger at the offending book. “Pick it…” 

Argo scoffs. “Fine. But next time it bothers you, y’can do it yourself.” The idea of it rankles, but he’s already halfway out the door, textbook in hand. “I’m takin’ another shower.”

“This is your third this day!”

“I’m takin’ it!” The bathroom door slams shut behind him. Fitzroy lets out an irritated growl. He’d been planning on taking a nice, long bath with these cool fun bath bombs he’d gotten from Ranier. _They have little toys inside!_

He moves to adjust his third-shiniest silver broach, only to pull his hand back with a _yelp!_ at a _very_ nasty shock. He throws his hands into the air in exasperation. “Alright, that’s it! Last straw! Firby, Argo, I’m gonna head on over to the Test Dungeon to throw some skeletons against a wall. Knock some bone heads together. The usual. You’re welcome to join if you like.” 

The Firbolg nods, standing up. “This is… wise. You look… shaken. Not like yourself.”

Fitzroy scoffs. “I’m a barbarian, pal, I can handle a little rage.” Still, though, his fingers tingle with electricity as he grips the—thankfully leather—grip of his maul. It’s a good thing he’s already had his time on the Battlegrounds for the week. He doesn’t want to almost-kill his friends on accident again.

The sooner he learns to control his magic, the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> griffin: fitzroy is ace and you’re going to hyperfixate on him whether you like it or not  
> me, vibrating thinking abt him: oH WORM????
> 
> anyways he’s my Boy and his friendship w the firbolg and argo sustains me
> 
> this may have ships later on but i’m a simple aro let me have my fun ok???????sawbones voice can’t you just have Fun for once


	2. in the villain dorms

Once Fitzroy got his own room as a Villain, he’d thought it’d at least be easier to keep things nice and tidy. No more roommates to rummage through his stuff when he’s not there, no more Firbolg hair on his nice shoes, and so on.

Instead, lately it seems as though there’s always _something_ winding up where it’s not supposed to. 

On his first day as a proper Villain, he ends up being eight minutes late to his first class because his good-luck-brooch went missing and he sure as ass (“okay, just never say that again,” says a shuddering Argo when Fitzroy tells him that) wasn’t going without it! 

It gets worse. Shirts? Gone. Glasses? Flown the coop. His pencils go missing so fast he’d suspect Snippers were stealing them—at least if he didn’t have ample proof the crab couldn’t pick one up without snapping it if his life depended on it. Pants are anywhere _but_ the closet, and his books and homework take their places on his shelves. 

It’s driving him up the _wall._

For two whole months, he suffers in not-quite-silence. He borrows the Firbolg’s accounting book—a hand-me-down from the school that had already looked rough at the beginning of the year, but that the Firbolg’s paged through so many times it looks _genuinely_ about to fall apart. When his toothbrush disappears, he gets Argo to steal him another from Barns and Nobels. It doesn’t _look_ cursed, so he’s probably fine. 

And then it happens.

He opens his closet—smaller than at Clyde Nite’s, but at least he doesn’t have to share a dresser like before—to find that all the hangers inside have disappeared. His fanciest every-day shirts and cloaks and pants all lay strewn about on the floor, undoubtedly now _unspeakably_ wrinkled. The whole floor is covered from wall to corner in cloth.

And right in the middle of it all lies Snippers, in a makeshift nest of tunic and betrayal. 

_The complete and_ utter _traitor!_

Fitzroy slams open the door. “Argo! Firbolg! I’m calling a sleepover!”

Argo’s not even there. Instead, Rainer and her _demonic_ hell animals are there, skittering around on the floor. Probably getting _bone germs_ everywhere. _Ugh!_

The Firbolg sits on the floor with an _extremely_ large book, wearing _reading glasses._ Who knew he had _those?_

Rainer waves at him, grinning. “Hi there Fitzroy!”

He cringes as a squirrel-ton (get it? Squirrel skeleton? ...nope, the joking didn’t help) runs across the dresser, knocking a bowl of limes onto the floor. _Argo’s not gonna like that_ . “Ah, hey, Rainer. Lovely to see that your… _creatures…_ are at it again. Just… getting their skeletal little bodies everywhere.”

“They felt cooped up!” She delightfully waggles the fingers of her left hand; the right one holds a small hoop for the _actually satanic_ animals to leap through. “Wanted to stretch their little legs!”

“...right.” Fitzroy shuts the door firmly behind him before turning to the Firbolg. “Hey, yo, Firby. What’s the, uh, sitch? What’re you doing?”

He frowns deeper. “I am… studying. Accounting is… not for the faint of heart. One must be, mm. Bold. Daring. It is... cruel of them to force this punishment upon the meek.”

“You, er, referring to yourself, there?” He still isn’t quite sure how the Firbolg feels about accounting.

He shakes his head. “No, no, I am doing just fine. Bartholomus says I am… very good student. Most dedicated in class.” He sounds somehow both proud and ashamed. Fitzroy would wonder which one he is—if the Firbolg even _knows_ how he feels—but he has more pressing things on his mind.

“That’s excellent news, Firbolg! You just… you keep at it!” Fitzroy pats his shoulder somewhat awkwardly, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“You mentioned a sleepover?” Rainer asks excitedly. “I love sleepovers! I could take the spare bed since the Firbolg doesn’t use his?”

Fitzroy claps his hands. “Ah, yes, I’d almost forgot!” He hadn't. 

The Firbolg looks at her, brow furrowed. “Um, Rainer. What is… sleepover?” 

She perks up. “Well, it’s when—”

“—when I bring some stuff to stay in your room for a while in order to test a terrible, awful, _horrible_ hypothesis I _very_ much do not like.” 

Rainer blinks at him. “Uh, Fitzroy, that’s… not exactly what I was thinking?”

“Well. That’s what a sleepover is, isn’t it? When your stuff sleeps over in someone else’s room.”

“I—no, it’s really not.”

“This is _too much_ of the confusing,” the Firbolg declares. “Rainer, you will explain!”

“Gotcha!” She replies. “Fitzroy, a sleepover is when some friends decide to sleep in the same room together!”

He frowns again. “We do not already do this?

“...why… and why would you do that? It’s not like you can talk or anything when you’re sleeping.” It sounds lame, if you ask Fitzroy. 

“Glad you asked! Normally there are fun activities before the actual sleeping—fingernail painting, movies, pillow fight, games, makeovers—”

“Oh, you _gotta_ sign me up, like, _yesterday!_ How have I never heard about this before? That sounds rockin’!” At that, the Firbolg stares at him, slowly shaking his head. “...no? Your loss.”

She shakes her head before replying. “If you didn’t think they were fun, why’d you suggest them?”

“My room hates me and I need to get out of it right the shit now—”

Rainer flinches. “Nope! Not like that.”

“—because I think someone has been pranking me very badly.”

The Firbolg frowns “Why do you think this?”

“Well, for one, all my hangers are gone, so.”

“D’you know who it is?” Argonaut asks as he enters the room. “Can’t y’just put a sign on your door to tell them to stop?”

Fitzroy squints at him in suspicion. Too bad his insight score is lower than low, because he’d _really_ like to make a check just now. The boy’s lookin’ mighty sus just now. “Where were you?”

“Er, out? Why?

“Oookay.” Fitzroy isn’t sure whether to believe him or not. True he’s been acting mighty sketchy as of late, but he can’t be sure whether this is an _Argo_ thing or just a general _rogue_ thing. Could just be he misplaced his homework in Jackal’s classroom again.

He’s about to continue pressing when a skeletal mouse scurries over his foot.

Fitzroy’s not exactly _proud_ of the noise he makes, but it’s not like no one else on all of Nua would scream if such a thing happened to them. Heck, even _Argo_ would freak! And it’s rude of his roommates to say anything to the contrary.

The dorm room door closes behind him with a _click!_ as he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’VE HAD THIS CHAPTER FINISHED FOR MONTHS AND COMPLETELY FORGOT TO POST IT, REST IN FUCKING CREPES
> 
> anyways stan rainer and also all her skeletons, i don’t understand why the boys don’t constantly want to pet those cute lil’ buds they would probably be so smooth

**Author's Note:**

> my name’s nottodaylogic on tumblr and i reblog exclusively fanart of sir fitzroy maplecourt (or do when i remember to go on tumblr at least)


End file.
